


It Was All An Accident

by EmmyHildy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2562791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyHildy/pseuds/EmmyHildy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was an accident. That's what they'd called it. Though he still doubted you could call what happened between them an accident. A mistake, they'd agreed, for sure; unplanned, most definitely, but could sex ever really be an accident?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 5th Year

Part 1

The first time was an accident. That's what they'd called it. Though he still doubted you could call what happened between them an accident. A mistake, they'd agreed, for sure; unplanned, most definitely, but could sex ever really be an accident?

He'd been so very very angry after his destructive conversation with Dumbledore about what had happened in the Ministry, about who'd been…lost. Too angry for a loud and boisterous dinner in the Great Hall, too angry for the quiet of the library, way too angry for the chill and tranquility of the black lake. So he'd thumped up to the Gryffindor common room, then thumped up to his shared bedroom, hoping to grab his Firebolt and maybe burn off the anger with a hard and fast ride over the grounds.

What he found was Hermione.

One of the last people he wanted to see. One of the most important, the most harmed by his little "Hero" stunt at the Ministry. He'd dragged them all there, hadn't made her stay in the castle. Hadn't forced her to keep safe, and his anger burned ever brighter for her presence in front of him, one hand in a pocket, the other holding onto the post of his bed she was leaning against.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" It whipped out of him, his anger at his inability to protect her bubbling at the surface. She didn't flinch, just stood straight, sliding that other hand into a pocket.

"Waiting for you. I'd think that would be obvious." Her tone slapped back at him and all he could think was, yes, good, she wants to have a row. Oh, how he just needed to yell and scream and force this burning red bile out of him, he felt he'd burst if he didn't vent out the haze of anger in his brain.

"How would that be obvious, Hermione?" He snapped, hoping the anger would force back the sudden image in his mind of the purple spell colliding with her chest, throwing her backwards and out of his sight. "There are five beds in here, I'm assuming you grasp that there are four other bodies that belong to those beds, four others you could be waiting here for, Ron being my first guess." She barked out a harsh laugh and stepped toward him, invading his space. He hadn't expected it, and it pushed away his anger back and flashed that night in the Ministry into his head, flashed his fear for her into his heart.

"Hey! There's no call to be angry with me. I didn't do anything!" She stepped even closer and poked him in the chest before slapping him on the shoulder. He couldn't move past her last phrase… _I didn't do anything_...

"And that's the problem, Hermione!" He stepped toward her this time, invaded her space. She backed up and that was the wrong move for him, he just saw her falling back and away from him, saw her deathly pale face. "You did nothing! Nothing to protect yourself!" He moved forward again, pushing her back until she bumped against the side of his bed. "You let that Death Eater almost kill you! Where was your shield? Not as good as you thought, eh, Hermione?!" Suddenly her back straightened and she poked him again, hard.

"Protect my-I was focused on the other couple Death Eaters in the room, I'm so sorry I don't have another set of eyes, another pair of hands  _with_  wands to better block crazy spells from insane sociopaths!" She shoved at his chest, but Harry was focused in his anger and didn't budge.

"You could have died because of your lack of focus!" He was practically yelling now, fighting to keep back the image of a lifeless Hermione that kept trying to superimpose itself over the very alive Hermione in front of him. What would he do without her? How would he survive if she was lost to him?

"Lack of-"

"What happened to all our training? How could you fail that way? You!" She was flushed and her eyes were bright with her outrage and she'd never looked so beautiful or alive to Harry.

"Fail?! FAIL?! A  _Death Eater_  almost kills me and it's MY fault? How dare you-" Suddenly Harry's mouth was on hers, cutting her off mid screech. It was too much for him, the anger-at Dumbledore, at Voldemort, at the Death Eaters for almost taking her from him, at her for almost leaving him-and the idea that he'd never get to see her again, there was just too much going on in his head, his body. He did the only thing he could think of to shut them both up. The fact that it was something he was sure had been floating around in his mind for a while was a concept he didn't want to think about. At the moment the only thing occupying his mind was how hot and strong she was under his hands. Hands that had somehow, without his direction, wrapped around her, pressing her close, has somehow buried themselves in her hair, were gripping her hip.

Then his mind blurred and emptied of all his anger and rage when her hand brushed along the back of his neck before her fingernails scraped his scalp and her other hand skimmed down the side of his body. Her hips tilted as she pressed even closer and they both let out a low moan. Quickly, unwilling to allow the anger or rage back in when his mind was so blissfully full of the smell and taste of Hermione, he gripped her hips and boosted her back onto the bed before following as fast as possible.

Harry felt her kicking off her shoes and followed suit, waving a hand at the door and muttering a quick locking spell before she could wipe his mind clean again. He was barely able to get the second shoe off before her hands were in his hair, pulling his shirt off, unsnapping his jeans, pressing him closer to her. Somehow he managed to help her get her clothes off even as he locked his mouth on her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the dip where her collarbones met.

Soon enough they were all hands and naked skin, lips and teeth and tongue exploring; Harry was sure that if her tiny hands stopped touching, pressing, grabbing at him, the anger would resurface. He was positive that if his hands weren't skimming along her thigh, cupping a breast, buried in the thatch of curls between her legs-drawn to the heat there and the sounds she made when he moved his fingers just right-if he didn't bring those low pleasure-filled sounds from deep inside her chest, if she stopped restlessly moving against him he would drown in that anger, lose himself forever in his rage.

Instead she was there, warm and flushed, soft and inviting below him, her body calling to his, her hands moving his hips ever closer and he was finally, oh finally, sliding hard and ready into her wet heat. They both let out matching low groans at that first connection and his forehead dropped to hers. This was peace, this was calm and serenity. He opened his eyes to find hers half-lidded and blurred with their passion.

"Hermione…"

"Shhh," she cupped his cheek and brought him into a deep kiss; his hips began to move on their own, slowly at first but soon enough hers were moving with him, faster than his, the sounds she made were low and urgent, her hands encouraging him to move a bit faster, to drive her up that steep incline they could feel building between them.

As the heat built it changed and pushed them both toward fast and edgy, her fingernails dug into his back as he moved in and out of her faster and harder, her legs tightening and releasing around him, her moans quick and fast. Rapidly it became a battle of sorts, hands moving faster and faster, hips pumping, skin sliding slickly as they drove each other closer and closer to orgasm, her fingers digging into his back as her inner muscles clenched hard around him, his thumb finding that small sensitive part of her to push and rub and caress as he dropped his hot mouth to encircle her hardened nipple. He was so close, too close, she was driving him crazy, he had to push her over that edge before he could let go. He clutched at the pillow under her head even as he moved just a bit faster inside her, pressed just a bit harder right on that spot above their joined bodies and grazed his teeth across a nipple and, yes, yes, there she clenched hard around him as her head flew back, a loud and distinctive moan ripped from her throat. Harry shuddered above her as her orgasm brought on his own and he felt the bliss and euphoria of ecstasy settle over him, clearing his mind of his anger and rage and sorrow.

His elbow trembled and he slowly lowered himself to her side, conscious of the possibility of there being some discomfort for her. He'd known it'd been her first time, as it had been his, but the guilt wasn't there. He rejoiced in that and burying his face-if only for one more moment-in her hair he nuzzled her neck, delighting in and memorizing the warmth and the delicious scent of a sated and content Hermione. He knew this was a mistake, knew even as the afterglow was still coming from them both, even as her scent was permanently seared into his memory. Selfishly Harry refused to speak first, refused to break the little bubble of peace and happiness they'd erected around them with their first foray into sex.

Next to him Hermione shifted a bit closer, entangled her legs with his and sighed low and long.

"Well…that was…nice." She surprised a chuckle out of him, as he was sure she meant to.

"Oh, how easily you wound, Hermione. You know men can be sensitive." He pinched her side before dragging his arm back from across her middle.

"Yeah, yeah, you were great, best I've ever had, blah blah blah…" Harry laughed right out loud at that, so desperately grateful she was his best friend. That with her this wouldn't be awkward or horrible. He rolled onto his back, comfortable next to her, even in his nakedness.

"Best you've only had you mean!" He grunted at the elbow she jammed into his side.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." She grumbled. She shifted and he managed to catch the pants she threw at him before they could hit him square in the face. He sat up and watched as she put herself back together. Suddenly guilt welled up in him; had he taken something from her? Something important she meant for someone else? For Ron? She couldn't have wanted her first time to be…to be…like that. Unceremonious and quick and not at all special. Sad that it wasn't the perfection for her that it, inexplicably, was for him, he quickly pulled his pants up and his shirt on before he moved around to her side of the bed. He almost fumbled, unsure of what to do with his hands, but then she looked up at him with a smile and she was Hermione again, his best friend and confidant, and he knew it would be alright. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

"Hermione. Are you- Is it- Was this- Erm, Save me?" He managed, awkward in his attempts, but she simply smiled and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead.

"I'm fine. It was so much more than "nice." It's very okay that it was you this first time." She smiled up at the relief he knew was on his face. "There, saved." Another laugh bubbled up in his chest and he marveled at his new reality. He'd been so sure just a few hours ago that he'd never laugh again.

"If you wanted something…more…meaningful, I am so-" She cut him off with a quick, full kiss on the lips.

"Harry, I know that…we may not have seen this coming, or that we didn't plan for the losing of our virginity to happen together," she smiled at his cringe, "but this was almost too…perfect for me." He searched her face, disbelief warring with an uncomfortable happiness and pride in his chest. "Was it not…good for you?" He shook himself, knowing the disbelief she had to see on his face had thrown her.

"I'm just so surprised, Hermione." He hugged her, quick before turning to find their shoes and socks. "I didn't plan on this either, but I was positive you'd be angry with me…that you'd have wanted to…with Ron."

"Harry, there's nothing going on with Ron and I." She paused at the incredulous look he shot her over her shoulder. "Yet! You didn't let me finish! There's nothing going on yet, I'm not even sure if either of us want there to be something going on or not." She paused again at the same look, this time thrown over his other shoulder as he reached for the trainer under his bed. "Really." She laughed as he handed her socks and shoes and threw her another disbelieving look. "I know how I feel about you," Harry's heart flipped a bit in his chest, not knowing why, he chose to pretend it didn't happen, Hermione was a friend and therefore unable to flutter his heart. "You're my best friend, and I trust you implicitly," Harry smiled brightly before bending to tie his shoes, "and I care about you deeply." This time there was no denying it. His heart did more than just flutter; try drop to his stomach before lodging securely in his throat. She didn't mean what his heart seemed to think she meant. He was sure, she just cared for him as a friend. Plus, the amount that statement affected him was making him uncomfortable. "That's why this was so wonderful." He saw her shoes move toward him and stood to face her, hoping his apprehension about his reactions to her wasn't on his face.

"Wonderful, eh?" Harry leered at her, hoping to joke himself away from such serious and conflicted emotions. This time she chuckled and slapped his shoulder. Then took his hand in hers.

"Wonderful because you mean something to me, and therefore, this was special, regardless of whether we saw it coming or if it was our original choice." He gave her a quick, tight hug.

"It was wonderful for me as well, Hermione. I'm glad it was with you," he pulled back to look at her, knowing this was going to be the harder part. "But you know that it was a-"

"Mistake, yes. Well, not a mistake, an… accident." He laughed and pulled her to sit by him on his rumpled bed. For just a moment the scent of her, of what they did wafted by his nose and he felt his cock twitch in his pants. Viciously he tamped down on that, surprised that he could be ready for another go already and slightly wary because he was sure it was Hermione's scent that had gotten him ready for another go.

"An accident. I like that. I'm not sorry it happened, I may have been at first, when I thought you would be unhappy about it, but not if you're alright. But it can't happen again, we have to act like it didn't happen or pretend it never did, go back to being close friends that've never seen each other starkers."

"I know, Harry. This would be so very hard to explain. To Ron, to Cho, to…everyone. I suppose you understand that it's not that I wouldn't want to do that again," there was that twitch again and Harry thought of Snape which effectively drove off any kind of swelling downstairs, before finishing Hermione's thought.

"It's that we're friends and that's perfect." She smiled brightly before jumping up quickly. Harry was pretty sure that, friends or no, he'd end up watching Hermione move in a whole different way from now on.

"Exactly. So. This never happened, we've had a nice chat and you're feeling better, yes?"

"Nothing untoward happened, and," Harry paused, surprised, "I actually am feeling much better. Thanks, Hermione."

"My pleasure, Harry, what're friends for?" She flashed him a secret and provocative smile,  _Snape, think of Snape_ , before heading toward the door. Suddenly something occurred to Harry.

"Oi, Hermione?" She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "What'll you tell R-whoever when they ask about your first time?" She smirked and he knew she knew he was about to say Ron. "I'll probably use it to my advantage and tell 'them' it was Krum." With that she spun out of the room, her hair flying after her down the stairs. It took Harry a full five minutes to stop laughing enough to follow her down.


	2. 6th Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time was an accident. Just as the first was. Or that's what they'd decided. She still wondered if sex could really be considered an accident…

The second time was an accident. Just as the first was. Or that's what they'd decided. She still wondered if sex could really be considered an accident…

What in the name of Merlin had she been thinking, inviting Cormac bloody McLaggen to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party? She flashed on the huge Quidditch player and his big hands…hands that had already wandered a bit more than was comfortable in the small hug he'd wrapped her in after she asked him to the party. She smirked when she remembered the tiny whispered spell she'd sent over his shoulder that had flowed over his skin like biting ants. That had kept his hands off her for a good 40 minutes. Hermione's anger flared, pushing her harder through the corridors of Hogwarts, she wasn't sure where she was going, but she wanted, needed, it to take a while to get there. If she ran into anyone now…who knows what she would do. She'd never known anger like this, sure, she'd been mad in the past, but ever since that little bird incident with Ron she couldn't seem to calm the burn of anger in her chest. And this horrid night with McLaggen hadn't helped. At all.

It was all that fool Ronald Weasley's fault. Why he had to fuse himself to Lavender Brown every time he had a free moment… Hermione shook her head in disgust at herself. She knew why, had first hand knowledge as to why someone would want to spend all their time like Ron and Lavender were. Of course, she was pretty positive Ron and Lavender hadn't had sex yet. When Lavender retired to their dorm room she was very vocal about just what she and Ron did during their time together. It took a lot of Hermione's will power not to kill the silly girl in her sleep. Not that it was Lavender's fault; Hermione and Ron had made no promises to one another. Hell, she didn't even know if Ron felt anything more for her than friendship. Truth be told, Hermione didn't know if she felt anything more than friendship for him either, though there had always been…something between them. She did know that it bothered her to no end that he was currently swapping spit and other bodily fluids with Lavender Brown.

And then there was Harry. Trying to be friends with them both, but always just a bit too busy thinking about Ginny to pay attention to her and Ron and their seemingly endless bickering. She knew Harry thought she hadn't noticed the looks he was shooting at Ginny every time the redhead wasn't looking. Or the vicious looks he kept shooting at Dean regardless of who was looking. It was the looks he sent at Ginny's profile or her back or that crossed his face whenever he heard her voice in the halls that got to Hermione. As happy as Hermione was for her friend's long-standing crush finally being reciprocated, those looks on Harry's face hurt just a little. She tried to pretend they didn't, that the twinge tightening her heart every time she caught Harry looking at Ginny like he wanted nothing more than every part of him touching every part of her were due to excitement for Ginny. Not jealousy, of course it couldn't be jealousy. Hermione had no reason to be jealous of Ginny, to want those bright green eyes focused on her, lighting her skin on fire like his hands could, like his mouth did…

 _No._  No, she wouldn't think of it. She'd promised herself as she bounced out of his common room last year that she wouldn't think of what had happened between them. That it would be forgotten as they had decided it should be. But sometimes… Oh, sometimes she'd turn and their eyes would meet and everything that happened between them, everything he did to her that one blessedly wonderful afternoon would come back in a vicious flash, tightening her hands on whatever was in them, whatever was close enough to grab hold of. They'd look away from each other quickly, but then she'd have to shut her eyes and duck her head, have to hope no one would be looking in her direction at that particular moment. Would silently beg,  _please, please let no one ask why my face is flushed, why my breathing is suddenly harsh; please let no one see…_

Thankfully she'd made it through those...episodes without having to explain her bizarre behavior. Hermione chuckled quietly under her breath as she wove her way through the castle. How in the name of Merlin's pants would she explain herself if someone did ask?  _Oh, sorry about that, I was just remembering what it felt like to have my best friend Harry's tongue and teeth on my nipples driving me wild while he pounded me into his bed. No need to worry, I'll be fine in just a mo._  Hermione's steps faltered as that particular memory tightened things low in her body. It was still such a surprise that it had been good. Really good. She'd always assumed her first time would be quick and painful and unfulfilling. But thanks to Harry it had been quite the opposite. One of the best experiences of her life. She'd never been as comfortable in her life as she had when they'd lain together after, legs entwined, bodies flushed and pressed together… _and that's enough of that, you silly chit_ , Hermione berated herself. She had to stay away from thoughts like that and the feelings they caused. Regardless of how wonderful sex was with Harry Potter, he was her best friend and that was all. That was all she wanted and all he wanted and that was…fine. Hermione straightened her shoulders, lifted her head; that was perfect.

Just Bloody Perfect.

Anger rushed in her blood again. It wasn't perfect, wasn't even close. Why is it that they could never see her? Oh, Lavender Brown was seen and Ginny Weasley and Cho bloody Chang were seen, but no one sees the girl Hermione. Just Hermione the Bookworm. Even her two best friends, one of which knew,  _knew_ , just how feminine she could be. Ron would never really see her, and Harry, Harry had seen her as a woman that one afternoon, but since then he'd stuck really buggering well to the "it was an accident" idea. It wasn't fair. Ron could make her so mad and jealous over that flighty idiot of a girl Lavender. How dare he throw his new "girlfriend" in her face all the time. And Harry. Harry who could so easily forget her. Forget their time together; forget how it felt to be together so intimately. How dare he forget when she could still remember every moment.

 _Rat Bastards._   _We'll just see who sees who and who forgot what._

* * *

What in the name of Merlin was she thinking, inviting sodding Cormac bloody McLaggen to Slughorn's Christmas party? She was supposed to be the smartest witch of her age, but Harry could've told her what an daft move that was. The things he'd heard about that hulking brute and his behavior toward women would make her fool head spin. For someone so smart she could be so dumb sometimes. Harry stalked the hallways looking for her, so angry he could barely breathe. At least that's what he was telling himself. His breathing was certainly not influenced by the idea of another man's hands where only his had been.  _If she hadn't been able to keep away from him…_  If McLaggen had found her, gotten her away from people…out of sight and alone… Harry's speed picked up and he could feel his fists clenching. So stupid! How could she be so stupid?! Just to punish Ron. He knew that's the only reason she would ask someone like McLaggen to a party. He knew Ron deserved it, the way he'd been behaving with Lavender, but punishing Ron shouldn't lead to Hermione putting herself in danger. If she really wanted to punish Ron she should've told him about her and Harry and their little "accident" the year before.

Suddenly the flushed and tousled look of Hermione as they talked after their accidental sex last year bloomed in his head before being overtaken by the slightly disheveled look of her at the party after just having escaped from McLaggen and a red haze took over in Harry's brain. The fact that the tosser could have, might have, put his hands on Hermione…might have felt the soft skin of her stomach, cupped the plump perfection of her breasts, ran a finger down through those curls at- _No_. Harry stopped, just stopped mid-stride and took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. McLaggen didn't do those things; he didn't touch her that way… She's escaped from him, kept him at a distance. She was fine. For now. Until Harry found her, then she'd get a piece of his mind about keeping herself safe from large men who didn't believe a woman meant it when she said no.

The sound of hurried footsteps ahead of him brought Harry out of his thoughts, and away from that red haze. Until a bushy head he recognized burst forward from around the corner. When she saw him she froze in her steps and her eyes narrowed. Harry quickly moved in front of her, fighting to keep his hands from grabbing her shoulders and shaking some sense into her.

"You!" Harry paused at the obvious anger in her voice and wondered just what _she_ could be angry at him about. She was the one being an idiot.

"You!" Harry put his anger into the one word so she would know she wasn't the only one with something to say. He watched as her mouth opened to start her tirade, but loud footsteps sounded from around the corner. She almost made him laugh when she stomped her little foot in a frustrated movement, but his anger rose again when she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the nearest classroom. He broke free of her as they passed through the door then turned to lock the door himself, physically and with a spell.

He turned to face Hermione just as she had spun to face him, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed and it reminded him again of her rumpled state at the party, flashed that red haze back over his eyes. He moved forward, invading her space, crowding her so she had to step back.

"How could you Hermione?! How dare you invite that-that- _bastard_  to the party?! What if he'd gotten you alone? Gotten you alone and forced himself on you. How could you be so stupid to put yourself in that position?" Her eyes widened and flashed brittle with anger as she stopped moving backwards. His body bumped with hers and a bit of that red haze shot straight to his groin, the rumpled picture of her in his mind's eye shifting to the flushed and tousled Hermione from their afternoon together. It stumbled him a bit and gave her the chance to cut across his admonishments.

"What?! How dare I? How dare you, Harry!" She moved forward this time, crowding him, forcing him to give up ground as she poked him in the chest. Their argument  _that day_  flashed into her mind and was quickly chased out by what happened when the yelling stopped. Hermione realized that this was how she'd gotten him to see her. To forget about Cho and realize Hermione was a girl too. Her anger at being forgotten, being ignored, being invisible burned ever brighter, clouding her mind, erasing the intellectual side of her that realized this was a mistake, that this was  _Harry_  and they were _friends_  and nothing more. The memory of that night flashed low in her belly and all she wanted was his hands on her to remind her that she was seen, was a girl, wasn't forgotten. And now she remembered how to make that happen. Push him far enough and Harry will push back.

Hermione invaded his space again, poked another finger into his chest. "How often do I have to prove to you that I can take care of myself, protect myself. That I can ask anyone I want to go wherever I want. You're not my father, nor my brother." Harry grabbed her wrist and spun her, pressing her hard against the wall, the line of his body pressing the length of hers, their noses practically touching. When she made to push him away he simply grabbed her other wrist and pushed them both high above her head. It was all Hermione could do not to smile.

"No. I am most definitely not your father nor your brother. I'm just a friend that worries over the ridiculously stupid decisions you make." Shock dropped her jaw before she bucked against him, trying to get a hand free to hit him.

"You bast-" Harry cut her off by pressing both wrists into one hand and squeezing them just a bit. His other hand pressed her still bucking hips against the door, desperate for her to be still so he could focus. Instead the feel of her hips, the slight swell under his fingers of the top of her butt pressed his hips harder into hers.

"Stop me then, Hermione. If you think you can protect yourself so bloody well, try and stop me." He ground his hips against hers, watched as her eyes widened and blurred. "Sweet Merlin, Hermione, stop me. For both our sakes, stop me." The last was muttered before his lips crashed to hers. He kissed her fiercely, the anger having transformed into a blind need to have her mouth locked onto his, her legs wrapped around him again. He knew the blow was coming, that he would deserve it, but when he loosened his hold on her wrists her hands cupped his face and her mouth opened to him. Her tongue surged against his and he could almost taste her desperation for him. It brought a low growl from him and he boosted her up against the wall, hands tight and bruising on her hips. When her strong legs wrapped around him, tightening to press him hard against her hot core he moaned loud and low, breaking their kiss to lick and bite and kiss at her throat.

Hermione threw her head back, unbelievably relieved to have Harry pressed so very close to her. It wasn't enough, but it was a start. She groaned and shifted her hips against his, desperate for more. Her hands flew to his pants, working the buttons and zipper, diving underneath the elastic of his boxers to find him long and hard and ready for her. She almost laughed out loud in her joy, but when her fingers closed around the hard length of him he jolted and her name burst from his lips on a shout. It was too much of exactly what she wanted; to be seen and touched and appreciated. Hermione latched her mouth onto his, hungry for him, for every part of him to be connected to every part of her. She keened low in her throat when he shot a hand under her shirt to squeeze her breast before thumbing her nipple through her bra. He used his hips and thighs to keep her against the wall as his other hand rushed up her thigh and under her skirt to bury itself under her panties, fingers caressing her opening and sliding hot and slick over her clit.

Stars burst behind her eyes and she wondered how she had kept away from this for so long. "Please, Harry, please." It was all she could get out before he thrust two fingers deep into her as he tweaked her nipple and bit at her neck. Her hand tightened around him before pumping him quickly from root to tip and back.

"Merlin! Hermione," Harry growled low in his throat as all of her drove him closer to that brink. Her low lust-soaked voice begging him and groaning his name, her hot mouth on his, her eager hand on his cock, the weight of her breast in his hand, the proof of her desire for him coating his fingers, it was too much. If he wasn't inside her, bringing her around him soon he was sure he'd loose his mind. He pulled at her underwear, but unwilling to put her back on the floor, unsure his body would even be able to be away from hers at this point, he growled low in his throat, any ability to put together a sentence having left him when her hands started moving on his cock, hard and fast.

Hermione ripped her mouth from Harry's just long enough to mutter a tearing spell and felt her underwear shred easily under Harry's pulling hands. She felt those hands grip her hips to hold her up and press her more steadily against the wall. She released her grip on the length of him to grasp at his shoulders, helping him to position himself to better enter her. In that split second before he did she pulled her mouth from his and their eyes met, held as he thrust hard and swift into her, thrust all the way to the hilt, pinning her against the wall. She felt the pleasure of that first joining rush up her body to tighten her hands on his shoulders, throw her head back against the wall, drop her jaw, close her eyes, and force a moan from her throat. She felt more than heard his low groan and his forehead as it dropped to her chest. For a heartbeat they froze, simply enjoying the simplicity and joy of being so intimately connected, of giving their bodies what they hadn't known they needed.

Only seconds later their mouths were back together, tongues sliding and warring, teeth nipping at lips, moans vibrating from one to another. Harry, blind with need, pumped in and out of her wet, tight heat, her clenching muscles weakening his knees and driving him into her even harder. He broke from her mouth, desperate to feel her pulse against his lips he dragged them down across her jaw and kissed and sucked and nibbled his way up and down the column of her throat. He vaguely felt her nails biting into his back, but it simply pistoned his hips faster against hers, rushed his hand under her bra to cup her breast, tweak and squeeze and skim her nipple.

She cried out his name and he knew he couldn't last much longer. It had been too long since the last time; she was too hot, too beautiful, too desperate for his body, his hands, his mouth, for him to hold out much longer. Her hips started moving erratically and he knew she was close as well. He moved a hand to press the pad of his thumb against her clit and she exploded around him, hands, legs, thighs, inner muscles tightening around all of him as her head lashed back against the wall, a scream erupting from her mouth. She pulled him after her, muscles rippling tightly against his length, ripping his orgasm from him, shooting the pleasure across his body, his hips pumping into her faster and out of rhythm until his vision went dark.

* * *

Hermione dropped her head onto Harry's shoulder and let out a low chuckle. She felt amazing. A broad smile spread on her face when she heard Harry's answering chuckle. She felt him squeeze her hips before shifting just a few inches away from her. As she loosened her legs around his waist she took a moment to memorize the feelings swirling around inside her. Happiness, peace, contentment, a low hum of lazy satisfaction, and underneath it all the light buzz of arousal when she realized he was still buried deep inside her. She met his eyes, only after she knew they would be full of friendly joy, and smiled brightly at him. He seemed to take her in a minute before smiling back at her.

"Hey," she said softly. He chuckled and carefully set her back on the ground. In those few seconds of friction when he pulled out of her, Hermione's eyes closed on a sigh and she could feel her skin flush a bit. Then his forehead was on hers, his hands brushing her skirt down, straightening her shirt for her.

"Hey." She laughed for him and before she could stop herself kissed him quick on the mouth. She fought to ignore her body's desire to settle there against that talented mouth and she shifted from between him and the door, moving further into the dark classroom.

"So," she started, turning to lean against a desk, crossing her legs in front of her. She watched as Harry righted his own clothing and smiled as he tried unsuccessfully to sort out his mussed hair.

"So…" She smiled as he did and they both let out short, slightly awkward laughs. Then he moved to her, bumping her hips with his as a sign to make room on the desk for him. They settled against each other, hip to hip, legs crossed.

"Another mistake, then?" She asked, glancing at him, glad that this wasn't going to be awkward. The last thing Hermione wanted was for her and Harry's relationship to be as awkward, or more so, than her and Ron's.

"Another accident, I think." She snorted and threw a grin at him. He grinned back and bumped their shoulders. "I doubt you make many mistakes, Hermione." His face had smoothed out, seriousness crawling into his eyes. Hermione sighed.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I pushed you, pushed this, I know I did…I'm just so frustrated and I apparently needed to get some of it out." He kept those green eyes locked on hers and for just a moment she felt she could drown in them, drown in peace and contentment, in happiness and arousal, then he blinked and faced forward.

"It's not all your fault, Hermione. I think I went looking for you for what I thought was a good reason, but I almost think I wanted…well, I don't really know. Just know that it's not your fault entirely." Her blood pumped a bit faster at that little tidbit of information.  _He'd come looking for sex with her?_  "I'm frustrated myself. I-Dean and Ginny-she-well, I," Harry cleared his throat and threw her a sheepish look through his lashes. Hermione's blood calmed at the mention of Ginny and her reason kicked in. This wasn't about the two of them-Harry and Hermione-for either of them. It was about Ron and Ginny. Damned complicated and frustrating Weasleys.

"I know, Harry. I know." She smiled at his blush, but pushed on, wanting to give him a little secret back. "Same with me about that… _fool_  Ron." Her anger flashed a bit, but receded when Harry knocked their shoulders again. "Like I said, I was frustrated. Thanks for helping me with it." She winked lecherously at him and enjoyed his low chuckle.

"So I guess we've been in here chatting about Slughorn's party then?" Hermione nodded and stood, taking a deep breath.

"Yup. Just two friends gossiping about the worst Christmas party ever." Harry took in Hermione's straight back and thanked Merlin that she was his friend. This could have been so horribly awkward, but she refused to let it. It was so nice to just be able to be himself with someone, enjoy a mistake- _accident, Harry, accident_ -with a friend without yelling or angry words and cold silences. Though when she stretched those strong arms, rising to her toes on those long legs his groin had ideas far from friendship. Taking a deep breath he tried to think of anything but what he and Hermione had just done. Against a wall no less.  _Not helping._  How he was ready for another go he'd never know…just like last time… _again, NOT helping._  Harry used a well tested method. He thought of Snape.

Harry cleared his throat and headed for the door to the classroom. He shot a quick glance back at Hermione, when she smiled he twisted the handle. He opened the door for her and followed her out into the corridor.

"So apparently Scrimgeour is a vampire, Luna told me." Harry mentioned, hoping to get Hermione laughing, hoping to get his own mind far away from what they'd just done. She let out a burst of laughter and turned to him as he closed the door behind them.

"What? A vampire? Come on, Harry! It's totally obvious he's really a troll under the influence of Polyjuice Potion and working for the goblins of Gringotts to overthrow Wizard civilization as it stands."

"Right, of course, I should have guessed. A troll, polyjuiced to look like a wizard, working for goblins. Simple."

"Well, if you study the Quibbler, as I have, Harry," Hermione began, dropping her voice to a fairly good imitation of Luna's breezily dreamy one. Harry laughed all the way to their common room.


	3. 7th Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time was an accident. Just as unplanned, just as accidental as the past two. They'd decided yet again that it was not a mistake, just a simple accident, something that could, apparently, happen between really good friends. Happen and be forgotten; though they both still wondered… could sex really be an accident?

The third time was an accident. Just as unplanned, just as accidental as the past two… They'd decided yet again that it was not a mistake, just a simple accident, something that could, apparently, happen between really good friends. Happen and be forgotten… Secretly, they both still wondered if sex could really be an accident…

Though they had only spent a few days at Shell Cottage with Bill, Fleur, Luna, Dean, Griphook, and Mr. Ollivander, those few days seemed to be what Harry, Ron, and Hermione needed. Time for Harry to think and plan, to wonder and organize, time for Ron to refresh himself with his family, a soft place to sleep, and food for his belly, and time for Hermione to fully recuperate from her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Every time Harry's mind shifted away from his questions about Dumbledore's plans and Voldemort's movements it went back to the time spent locked in the cellar at Malfoy Manor. He'd hear Hermione's screams rip though his mind as he remembered her enduring round after round of Cruciatus and he'd have to move, head outside, pace around his room, do something because he hadn't yet really been able to assure himself that she was alright. He'd asked how she was before they went to talk to Griphook, but everyone had been there and he couldn't check for himself. Touch her to make sure she was alright, still whole, still  _his_  Hermione.

Inevitably when he thought this he'd head for her, needing to do just that, needing to feel her strong and soft under his hands. Needing to touch her hands, rub her arms, hug her to him. Of course every time he found her she was with someone else; chatting with Fleur in the kitchen, laughing with Bill and Dean in the living room, sitting quietly with Ron on the porch. That was when the guilt and shame pushed Harry back, back to his solitude, back to thinking on Dumbledore and Voldemort and what he had to do. It was so much easier to think on those heavy and convoluted topics than on why his stomach clenched when he saw Hermione and Ron together, why he wanted just a few minutes alone with Hermione, why in those minutes he so desperately seemed to want to get his hands on her.

As he wandered back into the house after an afternoon spent on the cliffs contemplating the many paths lying in front of him, he paused at the door to the living room. He watched as Bill and Fleur sat close on the couch while Ron, Dean, and Bill had a heated discussion about Muggle soccer versus Quidditch, Luna serenely reading a curse-breaking book by the fire, occasionally adding her interesting and strange opinions into the discussion. Before anyone noticed him, Harry melted back into the shadows, realizing that Hermione wasn't with the crowd. He glanced into the kitchen, but she wasn't there either. Quickly, stamping down on the small spurt of guilt he felt at sneaking around, he headed upstairs, hoping that he could have those minutes with her. Just to make sure she was alright. As a friend.

He checked on Mr. Ollivander and Griphook, both were resting, the wand-maker from what Harry suspected was a healing potion. Harry felt sure the Goblin was simply sleeping; though Fleur may have given him another cup of Skele-Grow to make sure his legs would mend well.

Relief flooded through him when Hermione called out a soft "come in" after he'd knocked on the last bedroom door. As he walked through it she turned to face him, the still bright yellow-gold glow of the setting sun streaming through the window at her back, teasing out the colors of her hair and caressing her body, making her look soft and delicate and when she smiled at him it was as if the golden glow filling the room was coming from Hermione. Harry's heart stopped in his chest and he froze just inside the room, not even registering the door swinging quietly shut behind him. It was as if he'd never seen anything or anyone  _so_ beautiful.

"Harry?" Hermione watched as Harry simply stood staring at her, his eyes the only part of him that was actually moving. Self-consciously she smoothed her hands down her sides, brushed at her hair. She'd been wondering if they would get any time alone, it was rare, especially since Ron had come back, but she missed those days when it had been just she and Harry traveling together. As glad as she was that Ron had returned, as happy as it made her that he seemed uncomfortable leaving her side, she'd missed Harry. It was a feeling that squeezed her heart in her chest and made her feel a bit guilty, especially whenever Ron smiled at her, but it wasn't one she could seem to get rid of.

She had watched Harry since they got back and knew he was hurting, deeply hurting after the loss of Dobby. All she'd wanted to do was press herself close to him and hold him, comfort him. It didn't help that after she'd slept off the pain and weakness from her bout of Cruciatus from Bellatrix, all she could think about was how happy she was to be alive and how much more alive she wanted to feel. The kind of alive she'd felt with Harry when he'd had her pressed against a wall and pressed into his mattress. Hermione had felt crushingly ashamed when she realized just what her body seemed to want from her  _best friend_ , and she'd fought to bury the desire deep down and focus on the next part of their mission or on Ron whenever he was close to her. Hermione had found herself pulled in two directions during their stay here in the cottage; part of her was so glad that she and Ron seemed to be starting something, seemed to be able to move forward, even if it was only a little bit, and another part of her that couldn't stop watching Harry, couldn't stop thinking about their time together in his dorm room and in the Room of Requirement.

And now here he was. Staring at her like she was… _beautiful_ , and the door to the bedroom had closed and she needed him to stop looking at her like that. She needed to think of Ron, think of Ginny, focus on what Harry needed as a friend…not what she seemed to need _from_  him.

"Her-Hermione. I just-Everyone's downstairs…" Hermione's heart shot to her throat and her stomach flipped but she forced herself to stay where she was. Far from Harry. "I wanted-Are you-?" She watched as he closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath. When his eyes opened and focused on her they stole her breath. They were dark emerald green and seemed to burn through her as they had been the year before after Slughorn's Christmas party, and in Harry's dorm room the year before that. Something low in her belly tightened and she could feel her cheeks flush with the memories of those two nights.

Suddenly Harry crossed the room and his hands were on her bare arms, his face was close to hers and all she could see were those deep dark beautiful green eyes, full of concern and worry and a tamped down desire she fully understood. Giving in to that desire she closed the distance between them and her eyes flickered to his lips, her hands rising to smooth up his lower back.

"Harry." His name slipped out of her on a sigh and Harry knew she understood; knew she knew why he was here, why he couldn't stay away. And he knew, in her step toward him, in her widened eyes and flushed cheeks, in the press of her small, warm hands on his back, he knew she felt the same. That she'd fought to stay away from him, that they'd been avoiding each other for the same reason, and that neither could fight it anymore.

Slowly Harry dropped his head to hers, cupping her lips with his own, lightly running his tongue along her bottom lip, slowly sliding it across hers when she opened her mouth to him. As his hands slid up her arms to encircle her back she let out a quiet and satisfied sigh, her hands curling up to grip his shoulders.

Slowly he walked her back until she bumped the big bed in the middle of the room. Reluctantly he pulled away from her, ready to ask, to beg and plead, but before he could form the words she had pulled off her shirt and the backs of her fingers skimmed up his stomach, his chest, his arms as she lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head. When her fingers dropped to the top of his jeans, Harry dropped his mouth to her shoulder, nibbling and kissing his way across the soft skin there to the angle of her collarbone.

His own fingers worked the button of her pants and as her hands slowly pushed his jeans and underwear down, letting them fall to his ankles as her fingers curled around his butt. He kicked them off as his hands moved under the top of her pants and down, sliding her clothes down as his hands gently curved around the swell of her bottom.

His mouth moved up her neck to cover hers and she smiled into the kiss as she shimmied her pants the rest of the way to the floor. He scooped her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and for just a second he lost himself in the heat of her pressed against the hard length of him. His eyes opened as hers widened and blurred and the memory of pressing her against a wall a year before flashed into his mind. He realized this time was different, there was no burning desperation pushing either of them, there was no rush to their hands, no push towards that blissful end, no anger or frustration pulsing through their veins.

Hermione cupped Harry's face and kissed him slowly, surely, deeply as he kneeled on the bed and she felt him move toward the middle before gently tipping her back onto the thick pillows piled against the headboard. She wondered at their lack of desperation and fast hands until she felt those Quidditch roughened hands of his skim down her sides and lift her to unhook her bra. Her mind blanked when those hot, slightly calloused hands cupped and lightly squeezed her breasts, fingertips skimming across her nipples.

When his mouth gently licked and sucked at one of her nipples, his fingers teasing the other she moaned his name quietly as a golden glow of the room seemed to light her eyes even behind her closed eyelids.

Her hands dropped to his strong shoulders, gripping the skin there as his mouth kissed all across her chest, across the peak of both her breasts, down the valley between them and, it seemed, across every inch of her stomach before those talented lips drifted lower…

Harry heard her low gasp as he felt her fingers bury themselves in his hair while he kissed and lightly licked into the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. He heard her start to protest, but he couldn't stop now if he wanted. He had needed to know she was alright, to know she was alive and whole and undamaged. He'd assuaged most of his fears with hands and lips already, but there was a driving need in him to light her up with his touch, to make her skin glow and flush, to make her limbs weak, not with pain or fatigue, but with pleasure. He wanted to be sure she knew there was more to all they were fighting for than hunger and cold and pain and death, he wanted to show her there was more just as he'd shown her those horrible things during the last months.

So before she could protest he dipped his head and nibbled and licked and kissed, listening as he went, paying attention to what brought sound or tension to her soft body. His hands slid beneath her hips of their own accord and lifted her so he could lick her open with ease before sliding his tongue as deep as he could into her. She tensed beneath him and he pressed his tongue in and out of her, hardening almost painfully as her hands gripped his hair and her body began to writhe against the bed.

When he shifted to suck and lick at her clit she bucked once before he could press her hips down into the soft mattress. He worked her with his tongue and lips and the light scrape of teeth until he felt her shudder and tense hard under his hands. Quickly he thrust two fingers deep into her and sucked hard on her clit. Harry watched as she bowed off the bed, her breath frozen in her chest, her skin flushed and with a shine of sweat making it glisten in the slightly darker gold of the half-set sun shining through the windows of the small room.

Slowly he kissed and licked his way back up her body, his hands caressing as much of her as they could, even as her hands ran over every inch of his back, pressing him close to her. He settled lightly on top of her, one arm propping himself up, one hand working into the curls spread across the pillows under her head. Harry was pretty sure he'd never been harder in his life, but the desperate need for release he kept expecting to overtake him never came, it was enough in that moment to rest his hard length in the cradle of her wet heat as he kissed up her neck and along her jaw, across her cheeks and into her hair.

Hermione worked her hands into his thick and messy hair and brought his lips to her own, desperate for those  _extremely_  talented lips to work against her own as they had worked against lower parts of her. She moaned low when she tasted the unique tast of Harry's mouth mixed with what she could only guess was her own flavor.

"Harry, why..?" Her question left her as he shifted himself against her core, the hard length of him hot and practically pulsing against her.

"I couldn't stand it, Hermione. Listening as she…" Harry swallowed, his forehead dropping to hers, "As she tortured you." Hermione lifted her hands to cup his face in comfort and kissed him again.

"I'm fine. Really I am." Harry lifted a hand to skim up her arm before encircling her wrist, his eyes locked on the deep, still slightly blurry brown of her own.

"I had to know, had to prove to myself that you were, that you-that I wasn't going to lose—I can't lose you Hermione. Not you as well as everyone I've already lost. I can't."

"You won't." Hermione lifted her upper body off the bed and pressed against Harry's, trying to show with skin and warmth that she was alive and whole and fine. She took his lips again, skimming her tongue along the curve of his bottom lip, licking into his mouth and along his tongue. "You won't. I'm here, Harry." She rolled him, sliding her thighs open to rest on either side of his, pressing her body flush to his. "I'm here." She shuddered as she felt his hands curve around her shoulders, his warm palms running up and down her back.

Smoothly she lifted her hips and slid the length of him deep inside her. His hands dropped to grip her hips, almost bruising, and he let out a low harsh sigh before she latched herself back onto his mouth. Hermione felt like she could spend forever kissing Harry Potter, his lips were gorgeous and the way his tongue worked across her mouth, against her tongue, it was enough to drive a girl insane, but she wanted to give him the proof he seemed to so desperately need. She'd prove with skin and hands and body that she was alive and was with him as always.

She raised her body to sit back, her muscles aching a little from the torture curse but when Harry's eyes locked on hers and his hands skimmed up her sides to cup her breasts the ache dissipated in the pleasure that wove through her.

Harry watched, unable to look away from the glow of Hermione's skin in the now reddish-gold of the setting sun, the fire it brought out in her curly hair, the dilation of her eyes and flush of her face as she slowly brought them both closer and closer to climax. She surrounded him with hot tight wetness, her inner muscles squeezing and releasing him with every shift of her hips even as she moved above him quiet and beautiful in the dying sunlight, her thighs pressing against his hips, her breasts moving as she moved and he could have sworn that life itself was beaming from her very skin.

Suddenly Harry wanted that skin, that lush curved body pressed against his own while she rode him, he could tell she was close, hell, he was fighting back his own orgasm, and he wanted, so desperately wanted her wrapped around him as she rode them both over – as her body convulsed around his and showed him without a doubt that she was really there, really alive and still with him.

Harry sat up quickly, wrapping an arm around her back as his mouth latched onto the pulse point at her throat. He slid a hand between their bodies and pressed against the sensitive bud there as her hips rocked and rocked and rocked against him. He moved the pads of his fingers across her clit once, twice before she clenched around him, her head dropping back as her thighs viced hard around him. She brought him with her, his face buried in the warm skin of her neck, her rapid scattered heartbeat beating against his cheek, his eyes, his lips, ripping her name from him on a low groan. He rocked into her deeply twice more, unable to keep still as her inner muscles continued to convulse around him before they fell back onto the pillows in an unceremonious heap of tangled limbs and heated skin.

* * *

Minutes, maybe hours, later Hermione purred into Harry's neck, content and feeling better than she had in days. She felt him stir beneath her and took a deep breath, letting the scent of Harry's neck and the sex still in the air sink into her brain, weave around her lungs, through her heart before it was all gone and they were back to fighting for the light and the good. When he let out a low sigh she raised her head and shifted to move off him.

"Mmm…no, just a minute more," Harry's hands gripped her hips before one pressed her head back onto his shoulder. "Just another minute." Hermione sighed then smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Suddenly she heard Ron and Bill's laughter drift up from the living room and felt Harry's hands clench once again on her body. For a fleeting moment she allowed herself to believe it was a possessive movement, that he wanted her specifically, that it bothered him that she and Ron might be together. Then realization hit, they were naked, had just had sex in their Best Friend's family's home, had snuck away to be together. If anyone found them…so many people they loved would be hurt. And yet…Hermione desperately wanted that minute more.

"Oh, Harry. What're we to do?" Harry let her slide off him, settle next to him on her back, let the small fiction in his head of keeping her there with him forever disappear. He'd been forming a pretty little picture of many afternoons spent in just this way, nights spent together just he and Hermione and a big bed, mornings waking up with her wrapped tightly around him, his nose buried in her hair, his hands full of her sleep warmed skin… Then Ron's laugh had found it's way in and shattered it all. Reminded him that she was his friend, that Ron may be in love with her and she with him, and for the third time he may have endangered that. Not maliciously, but certainly selfishly. There was no fixing it, only moving forward and forgetting.

Harry plastered a smile on his face and rolled to face her.

"I think we both need to reacquaint ourselves with what the definiton of 'accident'." He chuckled at her low laugh.

"Too bad I left my dictionary at home."

"It's not in that magical bag of yours?" Harry sat up feigning a search for the bag. "I'm disappointed in you, Know-It-All Granger." Hermione sat up herself and smacked Harry in the arm before reaching for her shirt.

"Real funny, Harry. Just remember that bag's been dead helpful and don't you tease me about it." Harry felt a low buzz in his veins at the smooth expanse of her back, the hint of breast just covered by the sheet and was not surprised this time that he was semi-hard already. Three times was enough proof for him that there was something between them, something more than an accidental sex. He mulled that over in his head while they finished dressing.

"Hermione." He wrapped her hand in his and pulled her down to sit by him on the bed. "I know the policy—"accident"—but, I mean, there's something here, don't you think?" He watched her eyes drop and cursed himself for pushing. What if this question cost him her friendship?  _Stupid Harry, stupid._

"I'll admit, Harry," Hermione forced herself to meet Harry's famous green eyes, forced herself to follow through with the decision she'd made while they finished dressing. "It seems likely that there is," her heart stumbled at his small smile, but she pressed on, unwilling to hurt anyone else for her own needs or desires, "but what about Ginny?" This time it was Harry's eyes that dropped from hers and it dampened the bright spot in her that their afternoon together had lit up.

"Ginny and I aren't together, Hermione-"

"Because of this war. If there wasn't a war, wasn't a Voldemort, weren't Death Eaters out there, if we had returned to Hogwarts for our seventh year, wouldn't you be together? You and Ginny?" Harry got up to pace, unable to be near her and have this conversation.

"You and Ron?" He bit out the words, but knew they were true. Knew that she was right, but it didn't stop his heart from cracking a little. Hermione sighed and stood, blocking his path. This time she took his hand, pressed her hand to his cheek, let herself drown in those bright green eyes for just a moment.

"Yes, Harry. Ron and I, you and Ginny. How we both know it should be." Harry closed his eyes in a moment of denial, but with her strong warm hand holding his, her warm palm pressed against his cheek, he knew she was right. Too many people to hurt if he fought her on this. But for just one more moment, here, in this dark room with just the two of them he could be selfish.

He gripped her wrist and pressed a kiss to her palm, pulled her closer to him, needing to feel her lush body close to his just one more time.

"How it should be Hermione, but maybe, just maybe, not how we may want it." He moved closer, his face inches from hers as he put a hand under her chin so her eyes met his.

"No, not always how we may want it." Hermione moved just a bit closer, allowing herself to press against the hard plane of his chest, to feel the long lines of his body against hers. "But there are other people to think of, Harry. Other feelings, other desires, other hearts…" Their eyes met for a moment, and Harry wished that it could only be he and Hermione to consider. "It can't be just you and me, Harry, it just can't." Harry nodded, breathed deep, Hermione filling his lungs, smoothing the cracks in his heart, but still he couldn't let go.

"You're right, it can't. But Hermione, we can have one more minute of just you and me." He smiled into her eyes before lowering his mouth to hers.

"One more minute, Harry." His name sighed from her lips as he kissed her, as he gave her that one minute of selfish desire. She fell into his kiss, wrapped herself around him, wanting to remember forever what it was to be kissed by Harry Potter, what it was for just one minute to be loved by her best friend as more than a friend, what it was to be happy and content and fulfilled by someone else's desire and need and care for her.

Harry's arms tightened around her and for one minute he tasted and explored, reveled in and enjoyed the heat and sounds of Hermione Granger wrapped around him. Took that minute into his heart to remember forever what it was to have everything he could ever want all to himself with no strings or drama or pain; friendship, desire, trust, laughter, happiness, love… For one minute it was all his to take and give back.

A yell for dinner and the doors of the other bedrooms opening broke Harry and Hermione out of their kiss. Harry dropped his head to hers and squeezed her in a hug before stepping away from her.

"Oi! We can't eat 'til everyone's here! Harry! Hermione! I'm starved!" They both laughed at Ron's plaintive yell from the kitchen, Harry moved to the door, opening it for Hermione.

"I guess this time it's me that's made you feel better?" He asked, a friendly smile on his face.

"And you have. Good job, you." Hermione winked and Harry chuckled remembering her lecherous look from their fifth year encounter.

"Glad to help out a friend, though I'm positive I shouldn't tell just how I've helped you out if someone were to ask me…" This time Harry gave Hermione a leer as he moved past her and headed down the stairs. "I wonder just how I will explain how I got you into such high spirits?"

"Perhaps a promise to become more involved in my work with S.P.E.W.?" Hermione chuckled to herself at Harry's stumble on the stairs below her.

"I think not. How about a recounting of the greatest plays in Quidditch World Cup history?" This time Harry chuckled and Hermione stumbled as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Hmm, no. We're just going to have to improvise, see how that goes." Harry nodded gravely before grinning and hurriedly walking backward toward the kitchen, his voice raised in mock excitement.

"Then Krum pulls out his Wronski Feint, you remember Hermione, from the World Cup we went to…"

 


End file.
